


Remains

by Felixbug



Series: Breaking the Silence [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 00:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4120048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Being thrust to the back of his mind was a relief this time. There was too much pain and anger on the surface, blotting out the world and making him forget. There had been a fight, a blood mage who had – attacked them? Attacked Hawke? Justice flinched away from his own memory, but Anders’ filled the gap. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>In the depths of Anders’ mind, Justice howled.</i>
</p><p>Justice struggles to cope with Leandra's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remains

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I'd love to keep this series light, the canon plot of Dragon Age doesn't really let me do that. The rating is purely for violence and canon-typical disturbing content, I decided against shoehorning smut into this one. 
> 
> Although this is part of a series, the only info you need is that Anders, Justice and Hawke are in an established relationship. Aside from that this follows canon so you don't need to have read the rest of the series for context. 
> 
> I know I've checked a couple of warnings above, but just to be clear: this deals explicitly with Leandra's death and the characters dealing with loss. Justice particularly doesn't handle it well, this one's making a lot of people cry and I don't usually write angst so I'm feeling a little guilty and don't want anyone to read it unprepared. If you want to keep up to date with this series you won't miss anything by skipping this one - if you know what happens in the game, you know enough about what happens in this fic to keep up with the plot.
> 
> See Also: [Reader Tears](http://felixbug.tumblr.com/post/121446615404/asrundream-felixbug-asrundream)

Mortal bodies came apart so easily. Fragile – they tore like wet parchment, spilled blood so quickly, so far. This mage thought blood could be his power, but it was his undoing in the end. Red and thick and hot, it poured over Justice’s face, clogged his throat as he sank teeth into delicate flesh. He sought out rubbery arteries and they snapped against his tongue, and he snarled and clawed and tore at the remains. Magic was forgotten – it was not right for this, death was not enough, the body must be defiled. Left in fragments, remnants to be scattered, a broken thing that could not be put back together. Mortality was hideous, once the inside was revealed. Once the end was seen.

“Justice _please._ ” A voice through a thick fog of rage – Hawke’s voice. Justice stilled, bloodied hands deep in the thing that had been his prey. “Please, stop, please.”

He couldn’t see, he couldn’t think, red clogged his vision and his mind. He was shaking, a sound coming from him he did not recognise as his voice nor Anders, something dark and primal and _terrified_ but victorious.

“Listen to me, mage.” The voice was low and furious, but the hand that gripped his arm _sang_ and Justice stilled, listening intently to the song. “Control your demon.”

Justice turned on the source of the song with a roar, and faltered. He knew that face – knew the woman with the daggers kneeling at Hawke’s side, knew the still, pale body on the ground…

“Hawke will not lose Anders today.” The voice was deep and rough and splintered the soothing call of the lyrium. Justice stepped towards the glowing figure, and was halted by the prick of gauntleted fingers digging into his arm. “Release him.”

There was a hurricane of fear and pain in his mind – Justice could feel it like razorblades against the inside of his scalp. He collapsed to his knees, and the elf with the singing skin let him fall, metal claws withdrawing from his coat as he descended. Justice hunched in tight against himself, slipping fingers into his hair with a pained whimper and he felt the world fall away. Being thrust to the back of his mind was a relief this time. There was too much pain and anger on the surface, blotting out the world and making him forget. Fenris. The elf with the singing skin was named Fenris. There had been a fight, a blood mage who had – attacked them? Attacked Hawke? Justice flinched away from his own memory, but Anders’ filled the gap.

In the depths of Anders’ mind, Justice howled.

***

_“It’s just – Garrett, it’s a lot to spring on me at once.”_

_Anders stills on the stairs, and Justice bristles furiously in his mind. This is a private conversation, they are listening without permission. The door to the dining room hangs open, and Leandra’s voice carries across the tiled entrance hall._

_“I know.”_

_“I’m not naïve.” Anders hears Leandra sigh, and the scrape of a chair. “I’d noticed you had certain – preferences. I’d hoped you’d be ready to marry eventually but – I want you to be happy. You know that. But this is…”_

_“I thought you’d understand.” Anders heart flutters, and Justice cannot help but feel his joy with him. Hawke is defending them, his voice is filled with determination. “I mean, I’m not the first in the family to develop a taste for Fereldan apostates.”_

_“Maker, Garrett.” There is a pause, and she continues. “I gave up everything. And I – I don’t regret the years I had with your father. Or you, or the twins but – it wasn’t like a story. Running away into the night with nothing but the clothes on our backs it wasn’t – it wasn’t an adventure. And raising a mage daughter, hunted by Templars, never able to stop looking over my shoulder… forgive me, I wanted something better for you.”_

_Their moment of victory is forgotten, and Anders’ heart sinks. She is right. They know that she is right. Justice feels an overwhelming respect for this woman – it is right and just to protect her family. It is wise that she has learned from her suffering, and compassionate that she would spare others the same. She has told Hawke what he has attempted to tell Anders many times. Justice feels a brief pang that it is likely the relationship will end, and he will not have a chance to get to know this intelligent and virtuous mortal._

_“We’re not running,” Hawke says. “I told you, he’s staying right here with me. I don’t want_ better. _I – it’s been three years, and all I’ve ever wanted is him.”_

_Anders sags against the wall, eyes wet and heart pounding. Justice is torn for a moment in conflict between what is safest for them all, and what is bringing such relief and joy to Anders. In the end, he is weak – it is so rare that Anders feels this way, and he wants them both to have it, even if it cannot last._

_“He seems like a – very nice young man,” Leandra says. “Garrett just - please be careful.”_

_“It’d kill him if he heard you,” Hawke says quietly. “Everything you’ve said is what he thinks of himself as it is. Can you – I know you’re worried, but please don’t say anything to him.”_

_“Of course not.” The chair scrapes again. “I know you think I push my nose into your life where it doesn’t belong – Maker knows, you’re old enough to make your own choices. I just don’t want to see you hurt.” She sighs, and Justice hears weary footsteps across the floor. “This city isn’t a safe place, and we’ve lost enough.”_

***

It was as if the shelves had been tipped over in Anders’ mind, thought and memory scattered in pieces on the ground, disordered mounds of image and sensation that Justice could not begin to comprehend. Language was gone, vision was gone, he scrabbled at the confines of Anders’ mind, darkness pressing in on all sides. He tried to remember how to exist in this form – the use of Anders’ eyes, the way they communicated in shared thought. The knowledge was here somewhere, trapped beneath memories of Leandra’s face and the metallic taste of blood.

This would have felt right, once. In the Fade, everything was like this – cluttered and malleable, fragments of a fluid world at his fingertips. It was different here inside the skin of a mortal, the steady pace of time and the slow decay of flesh reminding him that he could not linger here. He was losing precious moments to this chaos. Somewhere far above him Anders was talking, then Hawke, but he couldn’t understand their words or even tone, they droned endlessly as he groped blindly through the fragments his mind, panicked and alone.

Something warm and gentle coiled around him, a golden hum that filled his thoughts. Justice clung to it desperately, and he slowly felt himself pulled up, surrounded by the familiar presence of Anders’ mind.

“I can’t – I don’t know – Anders, I don’t know what to do.”

Hawke’s voice joined the pull of Anders’ mind, and Justice found he could see again. Hawke knelt on the ground, his bulk diminished as he hunched forward over the still body in his arms. His voice was rough and cracked on the final word, but he did not break down. Justice didn’t understand how he could speak, how he could even think without crying, without screaming – Leandra was _dead._ It was the first time he had allowed himself to think it, and the word almost sent him hurtling back into the depths of Anders’ mind. She had been alive – just this morning she had smiled at him in the hallway, turning from the mirror by the door with a laugh as he passed and his blue glow flashed around her. _I look ten years older in that light,_ she’d said – and he hadn’t understood her vanity, hadn’t understood the mortal preoccupation with time but now he did. They had so little of it, they didn’t even know how little but their lifespans ticked away, running between their fingers like sand until there was nothing left.

“Let me get you home.” Anders’ voice was soft even with blood coating his teeth, clotting in his stubble. He was the man Hawke needed now, but his gore-streaked face was a reminder he could not always be. “You don’t have to do anything, love.”

“We need to move her.” Hawke clung to his mother fiercely, his grip on her arm stretching the rough stitches holding the pieces of her skin together. This was not her arm, Justice realised. Some other mortal had died for this. So many of them, every seam another death, every stitch a reminder. “I have to tell Gamlen. Bethany – somehow, if they’ll even let me…” he choked, shoulders rounding in as he bent forward protectively over the corpse. Justice knew this grief – he had seen it in Aura, and now he understood her horror. Leandra had become something else, twisted and stolen for some other purpose, foul magic animating her remains to display to her grieving son.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Anders knelt beside Hawke, swiping away tears with the back of his hand. Justice felt the warm wetness of blood on his cheek – their hands were drenched in it, but the mortals barely seemed to notice as Anders reached out to cover Hawke’s hand with his own. “Let Isabela and Fenris move her, I’ll get you home – I’ll take care of everything you don’t – you don’t need to deal with this.”

“I can’t just…”

“Please, love.” Anders’ gentle pressure against Hawke’s hand finally broke his grip, and he clutched Anders’ fingers instead. The body that was not Leandra’s, not really, slid to the ground heavily. Hawke choked on a sob, and buried his face against Anders’ chest.

“I will not leave you with him,” Fenris said, placing a heavy hand on Anders’ shoulder. “I will take him home, you can assist Isabela here.”

“Nice of you to worry about _me_ ,” Isabela said – there was an attempt at flippancy there, but it fell flat. Her face was grey, she looked sickened, and she would not meet Anders’ eye.

“Hawke is in no condition to defend himself if the demon returns.” Fenris glared down at Anders, lyrium lines flaring briefly.

“I would _never_ …” Anders’ voice died in his throat and he shook his head, his own horror an echo of Justice’s. “Justice wouldn’t hurt him.”

“It is hard to believe your words when I can see flesh trapped between your teeth.”

“Enough.” Hawke stumbled to his feet abruptly, eyes bloodshot. “Not tonight. Please. I’m – Fenris, can you – I’m going with Anders. I – I can’t be here. I need…” he made it a few steps to the wall and slumped against it, lips pressed together as his face paled and he retched. He didn’t vomit – Justice was surprised, the stench of dead flesh and blood had left the air thick, and he could feel Anders’ stomach twisting at the sight of the desecrated corpse.

Anders caught his arm and shot Fenris a challenging glare, forcing Justice back as he tried to surge forward to add his determination to Anders. Anders thought showing himself would be unwise, and Justice was forced to remain hidden even as he violently disagreed.

“I killed her,” Hawke said hollowly as they stepped out into Lowtown’s deserted streets, the wind chilling the tears on Anders’ face. “I killed Carver, and I killed her.”

“ _No._ ”

“If I’d been less _fucking stubborn._ ”

“Garrett, love…”

Anders pulled him close and they remained like that for a time, Hawke’s face buried against Anders’ neck and hands curled tightly in the feathers of his coat.

“Let’s go home,” Anders said softly against his ear, and Hawke nodded silently, interlacing his fingers with Anders’ own.

***

_Anders doesn’t quite know where he fits yet – drifting around the Hawke estate like a ghost any moment he and Hawke are not together. Justice finds his lack of understanding difficult – the way mortals relate to one another confuses him at the best of times, and when Anders doesn’t know the rules he feels cut adrift. Their chest is tight the first morning Anders wakes without Hawke there. They knew this was coming – he is heading out to Sundermount with Merrill and has left early to make the long trek, and Anders will be alone for a few days. He considers sneaking away to spend the next few nights at his clinic, but Hawke will be disappointed if he finds out, and Justice twitches at the thought of dishonesty._

_Leandra catches them hovering on the stairs as she exits the library, and calls Anders down with a warm smile. Justice can feel his wariness and his resentment – he does not understand it, Anders agrees with everything she said, yet he is angry that she said it. Justice feels none of Anders’ dislike, and is glad when they stop to speak to her._

_“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said gently, leading Anders into the library to sit with her on the velvet-covered sofa. Anders shifts nervously, and nods._

_“I apologize, Lady Amell…”_

_“Leandra, please.”_

_“I – Garrett told me that he told you about my – situation. I wasn’t sure I should…” he swallows, looks down at his fingers, and shakes his head. “I can go until he gets back.”_

_“Can I be completely honest with you, Anders?” He looks up at his name, and Justice can feel his surprise at the warmth in Leandra’s voice. “When Garrett told me, I was – well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at all worried.” She smiles. “But he told me why you did it and – I think it was a very kind, very brave thing you did. I’m not saying I think it was a good idea, but I don’t think any less of you for it.”_

_“I – thank you.” They haven’t had such a good reaction since Hawke, and Justice feels his admiration for this mortal woman grow._

_“Malcolm would have loved you,” she said, and there’s a sadness in her eyes that Anders recognizes although Justice would not have. “He had a healthy wariness of spirits, but he didn’t care much for the limits the Chantry puts on magic. And he’d have spent hours picking your brain for all the knowledge you must have gained.”_

_“It’s not as much as you’d think, you know.” This is more comfortable – theoretical discussion of magic is more familiar territory for them both. “When I met Justice – before we merged – I asked him so many questions. I thought he must have all the answers the Chantry keeps from us. Turns out, spirits don’t know any more about the Maker, or what happens after death, or any of it than we do.” Anders laughs and shakes his head. “I could handle him disagreeing with me if he knew any more than I did, but I get this – grumbling, almost, in the back of my mind any time I think about my beliefs. He doesn’t like Andrastianism, but he can’t give me anything better.”_

_“That must be frightening,” she says. “Feeling that uncertainty all the time.”_

_“I’ve always had uncertainty.” Anders shrugs. “There are worse things.”_

_“Is he dangerous?”_

_The question is blunt, and Anders’ flinch gives them away before he can find the words to reply. He would lie, if he were alone – but if he were alone he would not have to, and Justice will not allow deception._

_“He is,” Anders says._

_“Thank you. Garrett wouldn’t give me a straight answer.”_

_“I don’t think he meant to lie to you.” Anders sighs, and looks away to stare into the fire rather than meet Leandra’s curious gaze. “Garrett sees the best in me – in us. He’s the only person I’ve ever met who seems to want to know Justice – not just as part of me, he wants to really understand him. When he sees the worst of what he’s capable of he – I don’t know, it’s as if he’s looking for the best in him, and lying to himself about the rest.”_

_“My son is many things, but he is not naïve,” Leandra says gently. “He told me that you and Justice – you’re not separate anymore? You share your mind, not just your body?” Anders nods. “Mages are dangerous,” Leandra continues. “The Chantry lies about a lot, but not that. Garrett grew up with a baby sister who could set his hair on fire if he teased her – she did, more than once. Maker help me, I laughed, after I checked he was all right.  He knows the difference between dangerous and bad – the Circles will have you thinking they’re one and the same, but apostates know better and Garrett was raised by the best of them.”_

_Anders turns back to look at her, and Justice feels the warmth in his chest, the loosening of fear as she smiles at him._

_“Garrett loves you,” she says. “And if I know my big-hearted, reckless son, he’s going to want to love everything about you and then dig out some more to love under all that. He’s like that overgrown lapdog of his. You and that spirit of yours are just going to have to accept it.”_

_“We do,” Anders says, and Justice knows he can taste the Fade at the back of his throat. Justice doesn’t know he loves Hawke yet, but he feels something, and feels Anders’ love filtered through him. They have been accepted, and for the first time, Anders and Justice feel that they are home._

***

Hawke had headed straight to their bedroom the moment they arrived at the estate, leaving Anders to talk to Bodahn, Sandal and Orana. Justice fluttered anxiously at the back of his mind as he spoke, hating being away from Hawke’s side. He wanted both his mortals close, where he could keep them safe from harm. Anders said as little as possible, sparing them the horror of the truth, but he could not spare them the pain. Sandal cried hysterically as Bodahn led him away, and Orana stared silently at the floor. Anders paused at the foot of the stairs and turned back to look around the empty hallway.

There was a vase of lilies on the table beside the door. Vibrant, living things that had been cut down. Their corpses stood in shallow water, still crisp and white for now, but soon they would wilt and decay, brown creases in their flesh, the vile stink of organic rot in the water that nurtured them. Anders stepped forward, intending to dispose of them but Justice was there first, surging forward with a snarl as he snatched up the vase and hurled it against the wall. It shattered into pieces, water and crushed flowers spilling over the marble floor.

That was better. He strode over to look down at the broken remains, bruised stems and crushed petals, slashed where the shards of shattered china had sliced them. Dead things should look dead; mortals played at hiding what their brief existence marched towards. Justice dropped to his knees and gathered the pieces together, trying not to see the shake in his hands. Grief was a mortal thing. He was not of this world, he should not care – mortal existences were short. He knew this, had witnessed countless generations rise and fall and this should be no different. He clenched his fists and rocked forward, pain curling in his chest and clenching in his belly. It felt like a wound, and he let out a rasping, broken cry, bringing his fists close against his body as if he could somehow sooth the agony with touch. His were not the hands of a healer, though, and the injury was not one that could close. Leandra had been good, and kind, and she had been a part of his existence in this world. And she was gone.

Justice looked down at his hands. Blood seeped between his fingers, and he was suddenly aware of sharp, intense agony in his palms. He opened his hands and let the crushed china fall free, and recoiled in horror as Anders pushed forward to take his place.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, plucking shards from the wounds. “It’s all right, Justice – I understand – it’s not your fault.”

This form was so fragile. He had forgotten – he had wanted to forget. Justice tried to block the pain in Anders’ mind but there was too much – he could feel every drop of blood that escaped his body, the drawing on Anders’ strength as he closed the wounds. For the first time, Justice truly felt how finite it was – energy being trickled away, life ebbing out of their body with every passing second. They could not get these moments back. Time was so short, and they were here, surrounded by crushed flowers and spilled blood and away from Hawke.

“I…” Anders paused. “Justice, I’m going to see him. Are you – if he wants to talk to you, can you keep it together? For him?”

Justice couldn’t respond. He pressed tight against Anders’ thoughts, but he couldn’t begin to express all he needed to through thought alone.

“I know you’re scared,” he said. “But Hawke needs us. Please, Justice… talk to me.”

He tried, but every emotion he tried to convey fragmented into memories – the blood mage’s collapse as Anders’ lightning hit him, but it was Justice who leapt forward to dig his fingers into the soft flesh below his rib cage, who cracked him open and leaned down to sink his teeth into the man’s bared throat. Anders wanted to know if he could be composed? If he could be strong for Hawke? This was the truth. The only response he knew to fear was destruction. He could not offer Hawke comfort, he could not offer him peace. He had always offered things more tangible – vengeance, blood, _justice._ But the man who’d killed Leandra was dead, and Hawke still suffered. Justice had nothing else to give.

“Okay, okay,” Anders said softly. He stood up, and looked up the stairs to where the door of the bedroom stood ajar. “Just try? There’s nothing we can say to make this all right, but I don’t want to make it any harder for him than it has to be.”

***

_“You are an extremely level-headed mortal.”_

_Leandra folds her hands in front of her on the dining table. She looks up to meet Justice’s unblinking blue gaze, her face expressionless. Justice reaches for Anders’ mind, searching for understanding but finding nothing. This is unfamiliar territory for them both – but essential. It is a conversation neither he nor Anders wants, but that they know Leandra is owed._

_“You think so?” She shakes her head. “My son first tells me he intends to move a wanted apostate into our home, and I do not argue.”_

_“You did argue,” Justice says. Anders and Hawke have begged him to be_ nice _but dishonesty is unjust and cannot be tolerated. “You disapproved, openly.”_

 _“I – very well. My son moves a wanted apostate into our home and I do not_ prevent _him. Maker, I didn’t even try – I simply advised… I like Anders, very much. It was a mother’s concern.”_

_“I understand.”_

_“Second, after several days, Garrett decides to inform me that Anders is, in fact, possessed – and my first response isn’t to run screaming from my own home. And now he tells me…” Leandra trails off. “I am not merely level-headed, I must be out of my mind.”_

_“Garrett appreciates your willingness to speak to me.” Justice tilts his head, studying Leandra’s face. “As does Anders. He respects you very much. As do I. I have always appreciated the way you have treated us.”_

_“I…” Leandra laughs weakly. “I don’t even know what I should ask. This isn’t something I was really prepared for – Malcolm told me what to look out for with Bethany, you know, signs she might be getting mixed up with demons but this isn’t…”_

_“I am no demon.”_

_“I_ know. _” Leandra sighs. “And I don’t think the thought she might want to sleep with one ever crossed our minds.”_

_“I do not sleep,” Justice says helpfully._

_“That wasn’t what I… Garrett says you two are – in love?”_

_“Three. Anders, Garrett, and myself. But yes, we are.”_

_“Well that’s – I don’t know if that’s better or worse than what I assumed at first.”_

_“You believed his interest in me was purely sexual.” Justice tries for a friendly smile, and Leandra flinches. He forgets often that his expressions are not quite like those of mortals. “Garrett is an attractive mortal, I desire him very much, but that is not the full extent of our relationship.” There is an anxious fluttering in his mind that he recognises as Anders trying to stop him talking, but cannot identify the problem with his words. This is what they asked him to discuss._

_“Look I don’t need details,” Leandra says quickly. “But ah –_ desire _– concerns me.  I thought you were a virtue.”_

_“Yes, I am Justice.”_

_“But isn’t desire – well, not that?”_

_“I have a mortal body. There is nothing unjust about accepting the urges that come with it.” Justice thinks for a moment – he had feared it, at first. “Anders believed for a time that I had been corrupted. As we have come to understand ourselves better, we have begun to believe that I have – learned, perhaps. Absorbed might be more correct. I sought out the parts of his mind that interested me, and allowed them to become part of who and what I am. I am not human, I am no demon, but I am perhaps not truly a spirit either.”_

_“So you’re interested in Garrett because Anders is?”_

_“No, my emotions and desires are my own. But I learned how to experience them through exposure to Anders’ mind.” Justice smiles again – he loves Leandra’s open mindedness, her curiosity – a chance to speak to her himself is welcome. “Anders has a memory of a sexual experience which I found most informative.” There is a sudden blinding pressure in his mind, and the glow on his arms flickers out for a second. Justice feels a wave of disapproval from Anders’ mind and falls silent._

_“Was that…”_

_“Anders,” he confirms. “He does not wish for me to explain this further.”_

_“That might be best,” Leandra says, and Justice detects a small smile. “You’re – honestly, not quite what I expected.”_

_“I am Justice,” he says, frowning slightly._

_“Well, maybe I’m naïve, or optimistic – but you… well, you seem not so different from any nervous young man meeting his sweetheart’s overbearing mother.”_

_“I do not consider you overbearing. You are concerned we will harm Garrett. You believe that even if we do not, the Templars will come for us and he will be harmed trying to defend us, or hurt by the loss of us. Nothing that you think of us is unique – Anders has many of the same fears.”_

_“And you don’t?”_

_“I know I could not harm Garrett even if I wished it. I know that if Templars try to touch these mortals, I will tear them apart.” His skin glows brighter for a moment, blue almost becoming white. “As for loss – that, I cannot promise he will be spared.”_

***

Justice buried himself deep in Anders’ mind, and tried not to hear the conversation with Hawke. They had been talking for some time – Hawke had sobbed, and it frightened him to hear it. Justice saw truth where mortals hid it, but he had never found it easy to see hidden pain. Before he’d merged with Anders, he had had no idea of the depth of his suffering, and now he couldn’t help but obsess over what fear and anguish were buried in Hawke’s mind. He thought of the nights Anders woke screaming, nightmares of Karl’s death fresh in his mind. Nothing eased the loss, but he could be there for him, curling warm around his thoughts to remind him he was safe, he was loved, and Justice would never be taken from him. Hawke’s mind must be such a lonely place, and although Justice knew merging with Anders had been painful and difficult for them both, he wished he could be so close to Hawke – to absorb a share of his agony, and to shield him from it.

In the calm, still place below memory and thought, Justice tried to quiet his own panic. He had known this would happen – not this way, not so soon, but Leandra was mortal. As was Hawke, and Anders, and every being he had met in this world. He felt Anders’ chest tighten and their shared breath quicken, and tried to stop but the thoughts had taken hold. She had been there, and now she was not. It was the thought he came back to time and time again. In the Fade he could have returned to the moments of her life – the memories he now revisited would be as real as the first time. In this world he could not. This morning, Leandra had been there. Tonight, her son wept and her bed was cold and empty. Everything had changed and he could not control it, he could not fight it, and he could not understand.

“Let me see him?”

Words filtered down to him, little splinters of light in the blackness. Hawke’s voice was hoarse and shaken, but when Hawke called to him Justice always heard it – felt it, like a hook tugging at his heart.

“Are you sure?” Anders was afraid, Justice could feel it. Afraid of him? For him? Justice couldn’t tell, but he hated that he’d done this – his mortals were dealing with so much loss, he did not wish to add to their burdens.

“Please.”

Anders’ tight grip on his mind and body loosened, and Justice drifted up to take his place. The world was bright and raw and sharp, and their transfer of control was more violent than it had been in weeks. He slid from the edge of the bed to his knees on the floor, hunched in on himself panting as he adjusted to the sudden deep, exhausted ache in his bones and the sickening heaviness in his gut. He keened miserably, pressing his hands over his face.

He felt rather than heard Hawke’s movement, and then strong, warm hands were closed around his wrists. Justice let Hawke uncover his face, and met his red-rimmed stare.

“It hurts,” he said, and reached out to touch Hawke’s tear-streaked skin. “When does it stop?”

“I’ll let you know,” Hawke said, and pulled him close.

***

_Anders wakes, but does not take control. Justice loves mornings like this more than he wishes to admit – he knows they should rise immediately. There is work to be done in their clinic, there is the manifesto which Anders believes so passionately is the path to a better world. If these things do not require their attention, and there is nothing to be done for the mage underground, there are other injustices they could turn their attention to. Instead they remain in bed, soft sheets against their skin, listening to Hawke’s breathing and feeling the sleepy stirring of each other’s minds. This is peaceful. Perhaps, Justice thinks, bringing peace to a mage who has suffered as Anders has is cause enough. He presses close against his thoughts, and feels a wave of love in response._

_Then they hear the quiet sob._

_Justice dresses quickly at Anders’ suggestion – his instinct was to burst from the room immediately, but Anders reminds him that mortals have certain expectations. He can sense Anders’ desire to retake control, but he does not wish to relinquish their body just yet, and objects to the idea he cannot handle this alone. Clothed, he steps out quietly onto the landing._

_Leandra is in the hallway below. She is leaning with one hand braced against the writing desk, her shoulders slumped and a letter crumpled in one fist. Justice can tell that she is trying to stifle her sobs, he has known Anders to do the same, but she is not succeeding. As he descends the stairs the light from his body catches her eye and she straightens up sharply, dabbing at her eyes._

_“Anders,” she says. “I didn’t – I thought everyone was asleep.”_

_“I am Justice,” he corrects her. He is not sure what else to say and pauses at the foot of the stairs. “You are distressed.”_

_“I’m all right.”_

_“You are not.” He narrows his eyes and strides towards her, noticing that she flinches a little at his tone. It is difficult not to be frustrated, when mortals choose to lie rather than accept help, but he regrets her fear and tries to speak more softly. “There is likely little I can do to help. But Anders can heal you if you are hurt – or I can fetch Garrett if…”_

_“No, don’t upset him with this.” She looks away, and smooths the letter against the desk. “I don’t know how much he’s told you about his brother.”_

_“He is dead. His name was Carver.” Justice thinks for a moment – Hawke has said little else._

_“Did he tell you I blamed him?” Leandra folds the letter and stuffs it into her pocket. “I tried to take it back but it was too late. He has to live with his mother’s voice in his head, saying something like that. What you must think of me.”_

_“Grief makes mortals irrational,” Justice says. “It eclipses all other thought. Your treatment of Garrett was unjust, but – this is not the Fade. I am coming to understand that some injustices cannot be prevented. Mortals are imperfect.”_

_“That’s surprisingly reassuring.”_

_“You must still atone for your cruelty.”_

_“See, that’s more what I expected.” Leandra swipes her tears away roughly, but her sobs have ceased. Justice is not sure he has comforted her, but perhaps a distraction is enough. “It’s the twins’ birthday today. I got a letter from the Circle – from Orsino. I’d been hoping to see Bethany but there’s been an escape and the mages are all confined to their quarters until they can find out how it happened.”_

_“Your daughter has no involvement in the escapes,” Justice says furiously. He is enraged on Leandra’s behalf, on Bethany’s, and the word_ confined _makes his stomach lurch as cold fear coils up his spine._

_“You know that?” She narrows her eyes and studies Justice’s face. “What else do you know?”_

_“A great deal.” He will not lie to her, but he cannot reveal Anders’ secrets. “The mages must be freed, I will tear the Circle down stone by stone if that is what is required…”_

_“Now that I’d like to see.” Leandra smiles shakily._

_“What has been taken from you must be returned.”_

_“That’s not possible.” She approaches – cautiously, he notes, Leandra has adapted to his presence admirably but she does not forget what he is. “Bethany could break out tomorrow and it wouldn’t be enough to undo what this has done to my family – nothing can ever fix seeing your little girl led away in chains. And Carver, Malcolm – they’re…” she puts her hand on his arm, and Justice realises it is the first time she has touched him. “I’m trying to learn to live with what I have. Loss doesn’t stop, but neither does life. I’m sorry I disturbed you – you both?” She laughs and shakes her head. “Still trying to get my head around that one.”_

_“We are both conscious.” It feels like he should say more, but he is uncertain how to respond._

_“None of this is what I’d have expected for Garrett. But you seem happy, and so does he.” She looks up at him, her skin lit very blue, her flyaway hairs becoming an aura in his light. “After everything this family’s lost, it’s good to see that. A bit of life in this big, empty house.”_

_Justice nods, jaw tense as he realises he does not know how to end this conversation. Leandra seems to understand his discomfort and does not push, wiping away the last of her tears as she leaves him in the empty hallway, contemplating her words and her acceptance._

***

_I will lose them both eventually._

Justice lay beside Hawke in the near-dark. He was still awake, but exhaustion was slowly claiming him. He had said – more than once – that he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, and Justice had little doubt there would be nightmares in the nights to come. They might never stop – Anders’ had lessened in time, but never fully left him. Justice reached out gently, and smoothed Hawke’s hair back from his brow. He pressed a kiss to the creased skin, wishing he could soothe the lines of tension away.

Anders was close to the surface, a comforting weight against his thoughts as Justice watched Hawke’s eyes grow heavy, barely visible as the fire faded to embers. Nothing could last. He had bound himself to these mortals along with everything that meant. Life, loss, a progression that could not be halted.

But for now, he had this. Hawke shifted closer, warm and solid in his arms. Justice inhaled against his hair, and Hawke sighed and pressed his face against his neck. Loss could not be prevented, but for as long as he had them both, there was life. He wondered if Leandra had ever managed what she’d hoped for – to live with what she had and to let go of the pain of what had been lost. He suspected she had not. But she had turned to him that morning, full of life and laughter, and there had been no pain in her eyes despite it all. Justice breathed in the warm scent of Hawke, and coiled himself around Anders’ fiercely beating heart. Leandra had not let loss define her, and while she was gone, her influence was not. Her lessons were imprinted on him, guiding him, an impact from a mortal life that would send ripples echoing through his long existence. After loss, some things still remained.


End file.
